Leaving the office

Amanda returns in three minutes, flushed with embarrassment and her eyes brimming with tears.

“I told him. I did what you said. Everybody looked at me. Looked at me like this. I’m so ashamed,” she sobs, breaking down. “You didn’t have to embarrass me like that, you didn’t. How can I ever show my face here again?”

“They’ll just know that you’re the slut that you’ve always been. It should get you more attention in the future. Don’t pretend you don’t like attention. Now, if you’re done with the dramatics, let’s be going. We’ll take the side door from the office so you don’t have to walk through everybody again. You’ll just have to worry about who sees you in the elevator.”

“Can’t I wear a coat? Please sir,” she whimpers.

“Do you have a coat?”

“At my desk. And my purse is there too,” she says in sudden realization.

“Well then, if you want them, go and get them.” Her face deepens its look of anguish.

“I can’t go there again, looking like this. Won’t you get it for me, please sir? Or send her?” She gestures at Lisa standing passively by your desk.

“No to both. Get them yourself or do without. Whatever you choose, choose now. I’m not debating this with you.” You take Lisa’s arm and start towards the door. Opening it you step through, the pliant brunette beside you.

“Coming or not?” you ask Amanda, and see her nod despondently. Brushing tears from her face, she follows you.

The side door to the main office is very close to your private office. You see no one, and the elevator hallway is empty. When the elevator comes, it too is empty and you hear both women give little sighs of relief as you get on.

The elevator stops two floors down and two men in suits get on. They interrupt their conversation and stare openly at the two women. Amanda blushes furiously. One man looks at you with a quizzical expression.

“Photo shoot for a new product,” you answer his unasked question. “We needed models dressed as cheap whores for the concept.” The men nod their understanding.

“You’ve nailed that look. Especially you honey,” one says to Amanda. Her face somehow manages to turn an even deeper shade of red.

In the parking garage you escort them to your car and open the passenger door for them. “You’ll have to cuddle together, unless one of you wants to ride in the trunk.” Lisa passively slides into the seat. Amanda gives you another despairing glance and slides in beside her, squeezing close.

Parking outside your townhouse you open the passenger door for the women and help them out, escorting them up the stairs and opening your front door. As you close the door behind you, you hear your wife’s voice call from the living room.

“Are those the bitches? Bring them here to me,” she says in a voice of command.